Healing Process
by ForTheLore
Summary: "Peter," A familiar voice called out. It was deep, welcoming, and paniced. Shivers worked their way down the young man's spine as he tried to pry his eyes open. "Petey, kid," A heavy hand shook the teenagers shoulder in an attempt to get his attention. A bright white flashed behind his eyes; crackling violently, and then fizzing out in a dying hiss. "Kid, please," The voice cracked
1. Chapter 1

**Part 1: Injury**

"Peter," A familiar voice called out. It was deep, welcoming, and paniced. Shivers worked their way down the young man's spine as he tried to pry his eyes open. "Petey, kid," A heavy hand shook the teenagers shoulder in an attempt to get his attention. A bright white flashed behind his eyes; crackling violently, and then fizzing out in a dying hiss. "Kid, please," The voice cracked in pitch. It was filled with tears—nearly choked on them. But Peter, isn't that who he was? Peter couldn't get his eyes to agree with him.

"Move Tony," Another voice, still familiar, but slightly more bass lined broke the conversation. "Bruce is coming. Don't touch him." Enhanced.

Peter cringed at the sound of a fabric clad hand clasping metal. It wouldn't have been so bad, he figured, had he not had the super hearing. But it didn't make sense that his body decided to focus only on that one sound? And not on anything else?

"He won't open his eyes," The first voice whispered. Metal scraped against metal as the voices moved away. They're leaving.

A panic button seemed to have been set off inside the small super hero. Something about this was wrong. He didn't want the voices to leave. After all, they were a comfort; a symbol of safety that his battered mind had to cling to in order to keep itself aware of the situation. Even though he was aware of the situation as a new born baby. His mind was still trying to catch up, but it wasn't revving its own engine.

"Alright," A new voice entered from his right. It was breathless, and panicy—but not because of what was going on. "I'm back, I'm back." The voice hummed with anxiety. It made Peter's heart pick up its own pace as he listened to the new man. "Tony, I'm gonna need you."

Tony. That was a familiar name. Tony.

"T'nee..." The name stuck to the roof of his mouth, swirling along the saliva that dropped into the back of his throat and threatened to choke him. "T'nee.." He gasped opening his mouth a bit wider. Pain exploded behind his teeth, and ached up into the nasal cavities. His voice didn't hurt, but the movemen involved with the word had certainly set his nerves on fire. A low keen escaped his throat at the feeling.

"Don't talk, Pete." Tony whispered. A hand threaded itself through his hair, pushed it back from his face and soothed. The teen fell into the sensation, but still, he couldn't figure it out. Why? Why did he need the comfort? Why did his face hurt? Why couldn't he feel the rest of his body yet? He could hear—but only what his ears and mind wanted to register and pick up on. The rest of the world was still as silent as a 1920's film without the sountrack.

"Fractured," The third voice mumbled as the fingers fumbled along his face. "Left mand—Don't move the car!" Peter flinched from the sudden increase in volume. The movement didn't go unnoticed as Tony's minstrations picked up their desperate pace. "Damn idiots," The voice mumbled softly as the hands found their way back to his face. "Come on Peter, I really need you to wake up, kiddo."

"FRIDAY," Tony's voice siezed. He was starting to panic again. Slowly, an unnoticed weight seemed to be lifted from Peter's chest, and the boy found it quite a bit easier to breath. But with his breath, came the rushing of pain; it shot through his nerve endings like electricity—jolted to his finger tips before zooming down to his toes. A scream erupted from his chest, but barely made it out of his mouth before the world came rushing back in an array of colors, sounds, and feelings.

"Pete!" Bruce forced his way into Peter's blurry line of sight. "Can you hear me?" The young man tried to nod, but couldn't bring himself to do it. His neck hurt too much, his jaw hurt, everything all over hurt, and he couldn't get himself to move in order to get away from what was causing him pain. "Good," Bruce sounded relieved; like someone had literally lifted the weight from his shoulders as well. "Good. Just stay with us okay? We're going to try and get you out of here. I'm not going to lie, kiddo, it's going to hurt."

"What happened?" Tony roared turning away from the wreckage. The kid hadn't even been Spiderman when the attack had happened; he had simply been the unlucky one to get caught in the aftermath.

Eyes from all over stared at him helpless. Cameras snapped pictures; their buttons pressed violently back to back to back in order to capture the events. The tears that slipped down his cheeks as he turned back to look at the mottled being that was Peter Parker did not go unnoticed.

"Medical is approximately thirty seconds out," FRIDAY buzzed in his ear softly. Tony felt his pulse drop, then pick back up. It was something to be excited about, but he couldn't allow himself to feel at ease until he knew for a fact that Peter was going to be okay.

"Good," Tony muttered wanting nothing more than to shed his suit and scramble around the rubble as just himself. "How's he doin Bruce?" Even his voice was jumpy and jittery. The second scientist looked up, blood drenched through his sleeves that he had rolled up. The sight sent Tony's stomach into his throat, where it choked him and sent bile up into his mouth.

"He's breathing and alive. That's about all I've got so far," Bruce whispered brushing back the brunette hair from the bloodied hairline. "I've stopped as much bleeding as I can...but it really depends on his factor at the moment." Tony simply nodded silently watching the duo, before finding his own spot holding the teenagers hand.

Natasha knew.

The moment she stepped foot onto the Stark Tower heli-pad. It sunk onto her shoulders, and weighed her down like an anchor. Tears swelled in her eyes, but she blinked them away before making her way towards the door with purpose. She had been abroad on a S.H.I.E.L.D designated mission when Fury had stepped in and called her off.

"Now?" She had snapped into the microphone. "Can't it wait?" She was so close to the man that had tortured so many.

"No," Fury replied quietly. It was hidden beneath his tone; slicked and dipped in the stoicness that she had come to expect from the man. "You have to come back. I'm sending Clint to pick you up."

It was Clint now who had kept her above the heavy swell. She had been close to him—no doubt about it.

"C'mon," Clint whispered quietly, urging the redhead forward. Her feet froze to place, and she glanced back towards the damaged buildings of the city. Why had she not been notified of the monster that had torn through Queens? It had already been taken care of; several hundred lives lost and even more left injured or dying. Some had gone far enough to call it an aftershock of Thanos; but Natasha knew better.

"I can't," She whispered, her eyes turning from the horizon back to the one man who had been relatively constant within her life. A much needed cosntant with the ever changing world. "It can't be goodbye," She sighed stepping over to the edge.

"It's never goodbye," Clint forced out his fists clenching at his side. "Not with the kid." He looked up softly and reached out taking her hand in his. "You know that. We're just here to cheer him on."

Steve was in Alaska tracking a Hydra unit when the call came in. Steve had hit the ignore button, preferring to keep heading forward into the lair with Bucky; on the search for the tonic that they were trying to spread.

"Steve," Bucky growled glaring at his best friend as he side stepped down a hall, leaning heavily against the wall in an attempt to be inconspicuous. "How many times have I taught you to put that damn thing on silent?"

"Sorry," Steve mumbled as he glanced at Tony's name flashing across the caller I.D. He knew that the scientist would only call if it were an absolute emergency, but he couldn't find it in himself to take the call—to give up when they were so damn close. But Tony called again, and again and again. He left voicemail after voicemail until they were found. It had been a quick fight, Steve had only taken a few hits, and dealt far more than what he took. Bucky had taken even less, and when they had left, he had been thoroughly unamused with the man.

"Seriously? Who is calling you?" Bucky grunted as he loaded himself into the rented jeep. His eyes glared at the road as they proceeded down the high way, S.H.I.E.L.D had flashed the meeting point where Steve and Bucky were supposed to turn over the gathered information.

"Tony," Steve whispered flipping his phone open and staring at the voice mails. He didn't miss the way that Bucky's jaw had tensed, but he let it slip. He knew his childhood friend didn't particularly care for the man that Steve had once called a close friend, and honestly, why should he? Both of the men held a grudge against each other for a debt passed down.

" _Steve. You have to come back to New York. It's important. Call me back."_

" _Steve, I'm serious. I really need you to answer or call me back."_

" _Please...Steve please. You have to come home."_

" _Steve...I can't...I can't say goodbye."_

Tony was broken, and by what Steve didn't know. But he was damned sure going to find out what was causing his friend so much pain.

The super soldier jumped when the phone buzzed in his hand; another phone call coming in. This one was from Nat—a fearsome woman to ignore. Bucky's arched brow urged him to hit the green button. To answer the phone and deal with whatever was happening back home.

"Hey Nat!" Steve chirped into the phone. His tone didn't portray the anxiety that built in his stomach; a trait he had mastered long ago.

"Steve," She whispered, tears were thick in her voice. Something was wrong. Horribly and utterly wrong. Tony being cracked, he could handle. He had seen the brilliant man fall apart, and rebuild himself time and again. Natasha was something else. She had been a brick wall through so much, and nothing had seemed capable of knocking her down. At least, until now.

"What's wrong?" Steve leaned forward, putting all of his focus into his hearing. "Nat?"

Bucky watched the reaction his friend was having. His face was solid, before his eyes widened just enough for the long haired man to know an emergency when it was happening. Seconds later, Steve slammed the phone shut and pushed his thumb and finger into his eyes. Tears swelled, and fell down his cheeks frosting at they fell to the seat.

"We have to go home," Steve's voice cracked heavily as he leaned back and staired at the cloudy sky. "We have to go say goodbye..."

It had been a normal day, Peter recalled as he seemed to float in his subconciousness. He had gotten up, dressed, and raced to school to meet Ned early so they could go over some of the decathalon questions. MJ had been getting tougher and tougher the further into the season they had gotten, and wasn't pleased with the lag time that Peter had. But he couldn't be to blame really, not when he knew his own excuse. How could anyone blame Peter for being tired when he was Spiderman—hero to the little man?

He had heard the car speeding down the road long before he could hear it. The engine revved, and squealed as the breaks were hit just enough to lift the clutch and shift into the next gear. Automatically, his senses told him that he and Ned were in danger; he had a split second to react. But there were too many people around for him to really stop the car. However, he couldn't allow the vehicle to hurt anyone because the driver was too careless to realize the danger.

"Ned," Peter whispered softly. His friend gave just a momentary pause—turning to face him, words and laughter hanging onto his lips. "I'm sorry." Peter mumbled using his strength to shove the teenager across the last distance of the cross walk. The driver notices a little too late that he doesn't have the right of way; that the light had turned red, and the pedestrians had already begun to cross over.

Ned collapsed on himself, heaving with the breath that had been knocked from his lungs.

"What the he-" The rotund boy gave pause as he watched Peter grab the front of the car. The only issue? Peter's wrist on his right side had given way, and caused the car to curve and lurch in the wrong direction. Within the split second, Peter had launched himself with the car towards an empty building that was under remodel.

"Peter!" Ned yelped, jerking himself up from his spot on the asphalt. The building lurched, creaking dangerously before the slip of a simple brick—just one measly block of cement—slipped and sent the whole building collapsing ontop of both the driver and his closest friend. "No! Pete!" His voice hitched as he crawled over the wreckage and began digging.

"I'm glad everyone could come," May croaked softly. Tears already spilled from her eyes as she looked at the faces surrounding her. "I...uh," She cleared her throat with a low keen. "It's nice to know that Peter had so many people there for him."

Flash glanced around him at the faces of none other than the Avengers—and they seemed to be pretty damned upset. He wanted to be annoyed, but the shock from earlier events had still yet to wear off. The trembling in his hands was evident enough for that.

"Here for him," Tony interrupted, his eyes cast downward. The young man glanced towards Iron Man and gave pause. In all of the pictures that he had seen of the overly confident billionaire, he had never seen the broken expression that stood before him now. "Especially for those of you who had only ever met him a few times." This time Tony directed his attention to—holy shit—Captain America; who simply tilted his head as if offering his apologies.

"How is he?" Ned yelped from beside a redheaded lady dressed in black leather. The woman simply placed, what Flash assumed to be, a comforting hand on the robust boy's shoulder. He flinched away, glancing into the green eyes, before leaning into her. "He's okay right?" The young man's voice pitched at the end; as if this was all really happening and a crew wasn't going to pop out. That's still what Flash expected to happen, because things like this didn't happen to normal people. And that's exactly what Peter Parker was. At least, as far as Flash knew.

"We don't know yet," May whispered, the tears back in voice as she glances to everyone again. "But if he does make it, we'll need all of you."

"Spidey's tough," A blonde to Flash's left stepped forward.

Hawkeye.

Flash gaped staring at the man and his muscles. Then the word sunk in. Tony glanced up, sending a warning glare, but Hawkeye seemed impervious to it.

"He's taken a lot more than just a car."

"But it wasn't Spidey that took the hit," May whimpered glancing at everyone. The tears that filled her eyes now trickled down her cheeks. "It was my baby. It was Peter, Clint. He wasn't..."

Silence filled the small waiting room once more. It was all too much for Flash to comprehend. Sure, he had been one of the smartest kids at the school—definitely the biggest asshole—but even he couldn't seem to comprehend the words that were slipping from the tongues of the Avengers.

"Wait, wait..." Flash waved his hands in front of his chest. All eyes turned to him. Some looked on with curiosity. Some with disdain and disappointment. Even Ned looked anxious at his being there—but he had been around when the ambulance had pulled Parker inside.

"Flash," Ned warned leaning over to him. "Just don't, okay? We can talk about this all after. Right now is not the time."

"Not the time? What the hell is going on? Why did that octopus guy attack Parker? And WHY are the Avengers here?!" He couldn't help himself. It was something he had to know, because, after all, the team before him had never tended to any of the victims of their actions before. Why was Parker special?

"Seriously," Ned glanced over to the group of supers that he had only come to know through his friend. "It's not the time."

"Listen to the boy, kid." Steve placed a heavy hand on Flash's shoulder. "It doesn't matter how we know the kid, just that we do."

The silence was too much for the man that waited beside the bed. His head was held in his hands as exhaustion shook his form. But he would not allow sleep to claim him just yet. The constant beeping was a comforting sound, but it could still all change.

"He's alive," The doctor had said while the nurses wheeled Peter into his own private room. "But he's not out of the woods. It was all pretty intense, his healing factor got in the way, but we did what we could." Tony had nodded along as if he understood everything else. The medical mumbo jumbo went right over his head, but it seemed to comfort both May and Bruce.

"So when do we get to see him?" Steve questioned his hands folded in his lap. His lips were pursed in consternation as he glanced at the doctor.

The medical field expert gave pause. His eyes closed lightly with a sigh.

"I don't know if now would be a good idea. Next of kin can," He look pointedly at May, then raised a brow towards Tony. "But as for the rest of you, I think it would be best to wait."

"He would want to see them," May broke in. Flash glanced towards her, as the Avengers lowered their head. "He's not out of the woods yet..." She glared teary eyed at the medic before her. "I think they should at least get a chance to say good bye."

"You're right," The doctor sighed softly brushing a hand over his face. It had been a long shift, and just at the end of it this teenager was rushed through. His capability to deal with the enraged family of certain people was thin, and snapping. "I'll have a nurse show you to his room then," He brushed his hair back from his face casting a glance at his watch. Just a couple of more hours and he's be good—home free even.


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 2: Process Begins**

May was the first to visit Peter; of course she was. After all, she was his legal guardian and would probably have the hardest time saying goodbye to the teenager if he didn't make it out of the danger zone—not that she expected him to die honestly. It would be to much for her to take if she lost Peter as well. And everyone who had ever known the boy knew that he was too much of a fighter for something like this to take him.

"C'mon baby," She whispered squeezing his hand softly. Her fingers were cold against his warm clammy skin; a good sign at least. It meant that his blood was pumping and his heart was working. That was signs that May Parker could work with. What the poor woman couldn't work with was the constant beeping of the heart monitor, or the waxing and waning of the teenagers pulse. She leaned her forehead against the palm of the hand and sighed lightly. "Please."

There was no response, and it broke her heart. She felt it shatter in place as the young man sleeping before her couldn't even squeeze her hand. Just twenty four hours ago, he had been bouncing on his heels, chattering away to her about his day and some project he had coming up. He had whispered in her ear, just before he darted out the door. "See you this afternoon."

It was well past afternoon and he had yet to open his eyes.

Tony Stark was the next in line. He had wrung his hands and paced the waiting room anxiously until the tear stained face of May Parker slipped in. Her shoulders trembled with the restraint of holding back her own tears. It caused Tony's breath to hitch in his chest.

"You can go now," She whispered placing a soft hand on his shoulder. Her grip tightened in what was assumed a comfort, but it didn't placate the butterflies that flittered or the anxiety that bubbled in his gut. It was a gross feeling, and Tony hated it.

"Thank you," He whispered tugging her into an akward hug. It was something he would probably never do again, but frankly, they both needed the comfort of a different part of Peter's life. May tugged bacj, nodding silently to him. He didn't miss a beat as he raced towards the hospital room.

He gave a minute pause when his hand neared the handle that would lead him into the silent room—or what he assumed would be silent. Flashes of Peter pinned beneath the car, as Otto cackled in S.H.I.E.L.D's restraints made Tony shiver. He had never particularly wanted to hurt someone as bad as he had the crazed octopod.

"Pete?" Tony whispered, knocking quietly. He entered without waiting for an answer—it wouldn't come. "Hey kid," He pursed his lips as he glanced at the machines that lived for the young man. A ventilator was plugged to an intubation tube that still had flakes of blood from the initial insertion. An iv plugged a vein in the child's clavicle, while an arterial cathetor had been inserted into his radial artery in his left wrist. His right arm was currently casted with metal pins and rods poking out. The kids face was horribly swollen, and blood pooled in bruises along his eyes and forehead. Wires criss crossed across the boy's chest, attached to small patches that detected his pulse and oxygen stats, as well as brain readings. Peter still wore the collar from his initial gurney ride. At this point, Tony wondered if it was all that kept his head on his shoulders.

"Shit," The older man whispered leaning his head into his own hands as he lowered himself into the visitor chair. "You really did a number on yourself huh kid?"

Tony wanted to reach out and caress the hand that rested heavily against the thick white sheets. But the forming bruise, and the jostling of the catheter were too much for the brunette's anxiety. So instead, he settled for brushing a bit of hair back from the swollen plains of his face. Nothing much had changed—he noted—from when he found the young man pinned against the brick wall of school.

"I really need you to wake up, okay? Show some sign, yeah?" Subconciously, Tony's hand cupped Peter's swollen cheek. Tears began their trek towards the tip of his nose, but he didn't care. If ever there was a time to be weak, it was now. "I'm not saying goodbye...so...You can't give them a reason to make me." He brushed the back of his hand against the cheek before collapsing back into the chair and leaning his head back. The plush leather was soft against his neck, but the smell made him nauseous. He hated the smells of hospitals; always had.

Still, Peter didn't move. Didn't even blink; didn't breathe on his own. Nothing had changed, and Tony couldn't handle it for much longer.

Steve hadn't really met the kid a lot. But from what he had seen and interacted with, the kid was too good for this kind of fate. Pete had reminded the super soldier of himself—too much so. It was scary to Steve to think that the kid was more than willing to throw himself in harm's way just so that he could prevent other's from getting hurt.

It was something that had grown on him. And when Tony called him everyday to brag about what the kid was doing, and how he was proving to be a hero the little people, well...Steve couldn't help but to like the kid either. After all, it wasn't just Spider-Man that had been attacked today. Peter wasn't wearing the mask when the car had collided into him. He hadn't been wearing the mask when he shoved Ned into the bush.

For once, it wasn't going to be Spider-Man the Menace in the papers. It was going to be Peter Parker the Hero. And all Steve could focus on was the 'if he got to see it' factor. If he could just open his eyes; if he could just move his hands; if he could just be alive that would be great. Steve sighed heavily leaning back in the small chair. It creaked under his weight, causing the man to flinch at the break in silence.

"Kid," Steve whispered quietly grabbing the limp hand that had been left ungloved. "You can't do this to everyone...I know I haven't really had a lot of time to get to know you...what with meeting you at Germany...but you're good...and strong." Steve glanced up to the swollen eyes of the teenager. He didn't move, didn't flinch. Hell, the kid wasn't even breathing on his own at the moment. "Just anything.."

Still the room was silent with no response except the constant bleeping of the machines around him. Heaving a sigh, he leaned back in the chair and turned to the television. There was no doubt coverage going on; several different channels had already tried to interview the guests. Natasha was being an angel though, and kept them at bay. But that didn't stop the vultures from trying to snap pictures of May's broken face, and the tears that rolled unconciously down Tony's cheeks.

"It's pretty impressive," Steve muttered glancing to the wall. "What you do...I can't be Captain America alone...Never could. But you were always Spider-Man...even after Tony took the suit. He brags a lot about you..." He sighed pushing his thumb and pointer finger into his eyes. "You're uh...you're actually really good for him. I've seen a big change since he's taken you under his wing...just...If anything, please wake up to say goodbye to him? He'd be devestated if he didn't get to tell you that's he really damn proud of you kid." The stinging behind his eyes was definitely a sign of needing to leave. Captain America didn't cry for some random kid (even though he always did.). He'd have to get Bucky to take him somewhere he could relieve the emotional wall that was building. "Alright Kid...I'll send in someone else...Who do you wanna see?" He waited for a second, to see if there would be a reply. To see if there was a chance he had woken up just the slightest. But nothing.

"Possibility for brain death," The doctor's voice carried through the waiting room. It grated on Flash's ears, as the information sunk in. Ned had, unwillingly, filled the boy in on what exactly was going on. Had told Flash that Peter was actually THE Spider-Man—Parker was his fucking hero?! It had nearly sent the boy into a confused anxiety attack.

"No," May whispered shaking her head as she glanced between the doctor and Tony. "You won't know that until he gets a cat scan...and there's still too much swelling!"

When he was younger, and Parker had still been his friend, he had seen Aunt May angry only once. Peter had gone missing for the entire day—right out of their backyard. She had rushed to Flash's house, begging his mother to tell her that Peter was with them. Never before, had he seen the woman so devestated, or enraged.

It turns out, that Peter had overheard his aunt saying she wasn't feeling well, so he had run to the store and gotten lost on his way home. May had chastised the boy to no end, while tears had streamed down her cheeks. But even she couldn't remain mad at him; after all, he was just trying to make sure she was okay.

Ever since, May had been fiercely over protective of the brunette. And Flash certainly didn't blame her. Not even in this situation.

"What's going?" Bruce Banner—THE Hulk—stepped up to the conversation. His arms crossed over his chest as he glowered at the bickering duo. "What did he say May?" The woman's lip quivered, and Flash noticed a slice of green slipping up into Banner's face.

"Calm down," Tony muttered beside them. "Steve's back, someone else should go sit with Peter for a bit." Ned had opened his mouth to volunteer, but May had nodded towards Flash. He glanced between her and Ned, before pursing his lips and moved towards the hall that would take him to the injured boys room.

When he entered, it was a shock. Peter was laid in the bed, machine attached to him through wires, and the stain of iodine splayed across his chest. Stitches had worked their way into his lip, and the lacerations that littered his body. But, Flash noted sickly, they were healing really quick. Several of the cuts had already scabbed over, and a few of them had healed completely; leaving behind only a thin white line. The machine in the corner beeped with the beating of Parker's heart. It was too much. Flash slumped against the door, his breath coming too fast but still feeling stuck in his chest. His hand sought out the door handle, scraping the door. And without a second glance, he raced out of the building. No one tried to stop him as his hands slammed into the doors that opened to the streets of New York.

"Nat," Steve mumbled glancing at the Widow. She stared out at the expanse of the waiting room, her hands clenched in her lap. Of all of them, she was third closest to the kid. Once Banner had gotten back, she had taken refuge at the compound and had run into Peter many times. They got along well, and had even started training together. "You should go see him."

"Right," She muttered, her eyes still staring ahead. The order was a suggestion, and one she desperately wanted to take, but she couldn't get her legs to move. It was the first time she hadn't been in control of her body. Steve pursed his lips, worried about the redhaired woman. He hadn't been made fully aware of their relationship exactly; but Nat had certainly come to love the kid. He was quick witted, and snappy. Smart, and sarcastic. Basically, all of the best human essentials curled up into one ball of smartass teenage remarks. "Right," Natasha inhaled deeply as she stood to make her way to the hallway.

She knew what to expect, had seen the kid in med bay several times since the whole Germany ordeal. But it had never been as Peter Parker, the nerd of Midtown High School that had straight A's, and would bend over backwards for his Aunt May; never as a regular child that should have never been involved in heroic dealings. She braced her shoulder just outside his door. Natasha Romanov—THE Black Widow—could not allow herself to be weak. It was a law drilled into her with all of her training; all of the rules that had been force fed to her until she couldn't handle it anymore, until she was no longer Natasha.

"Hey Pete," She muttered working her jaw as her hand rested on the door handle. "I'm coming in," She sighed rubbing her face.

"Mr. Stark!"

"Tony!"

"Over here!"

"Just one question!"

Tony pushed his way through the crowd of reporters. Physically, he was able to seemingly ignore the whispers and questions that were thrown at him. All he wanted was some coffee; everyone waiting did. It had been thirteen hours since the hospitalization, and still Peter wasn't waking up. It was both worrying, and relieving. If he didn't wake up, this it was possible his body was healing itself quicker, but what if he never woke up?

"Tony," A hand grabbed his shoulder. The billionaire turned quickly, nearly backhanding the man who had simply ushered him through the crowd. "C'mon, you stopped walking." He nodded towards the crowd of people that almost literally climbed over each other. It was disgusting, he realized, how desperate they were for a story. "We gotcha," The man nodded towards a few other men. Men wearing hard hats that were caked in dust, and grime—construction workers. "Spider-Man helped us once," He smiled gently. "We gotta help his family now."

Tears welled up behind Tony's eyes as he forced himself to nod. He squared his shoulders and raised his jaw as he worked his way further through the crowd.

"Right," He choked out, allowing the men to surround him and push through the crowd. It was like his old press conferences all over again. Back then, that would have sent him into a frenzied anxiety attack, but now...now it seemed all pointless. "Thank you..."

"Don't worry about it." The man smiled shaking his head. "Name's Stuart by the way. We'll be over there for a while...Stop by and tell us how the kid is yeah?"

Tony nodded quietly as they neared the end of the crowd. But that didn't stop the group from their efforts. They took him all the way to the parking garage and stood guard to make sure no one got passed them. Tony had never felt so grateful for a group of strangers and their kindness. He would have to do something big for the group.

"Thank you," He nodded again as he climbed into the card. "Really...I appreciate it." He smiled tiredly at the men before speeding down the ramps and towards the local coffee shop. He didn't want to go too far just in case something happened—in case he needed to make it back to the group.

Stuart simply nodded and smiled warmly waving the man off before ushering his group back across the road to the site.

Steve paced the hallway. Natasha had refused her second sitting with the teenager, and had instead, ushered Ned in her wake. May was currently sleeping on the cot provided by Tony's own bots. The shock still rode in the sleeping woman's shoulders. Not once relaxing, as if she was tightly wound and waiting for the doctor to try and tell her that something was going to happen.

Ned talked a lot when he was nervous, or in a situation that he didn't like. In this case, it was certainly both.

Peter being Spider-Man was never supposed to be super dangerous. He was never supposed to get hurt, that's why he had the suit, and Tony, and Karen, and a whole other list of people he could call if things had gotten bad. But Spider-Man wasn't the one that was attacked. Doc Ock wasn't even supposed to know Peter Parker existed. But things happen, Ned had chalked it up to himself.

Still, that didn't kill the anxiety of sitting with his closest friend waiting and watching for any sign of life to come to him. It made the bigger boy queasy when he would catch a glance of dried blood. Or if he looked at the intubation tube for too long. He could only imagine how uncomfortable it must be to have something that wide shoved down his throat. Then again, it wasn't like Peter was feeling it too much with all of the drugs that the facility had him on.

"Just...wake up, okay Pete?" Ned whispered before pushing his face into his hands. He had almost missed the rise in his friend's heart rate. Almost. He noticed the beeping pick up just slightly, and wondered if he should perhaps call a nurse?

Better safe than sorry, He hummed to himself as he forced himself from the chair and to the nurses station.

"Peter?" The voice was in a tunnel. "Peter can you hear me?" A hand was tapping gently against his own, but it hurt. He just wanted the tapping to stop; for the voice to clear up.

"K...ren?" He croaked around the akwardness that was his stuffed throat.

"He's awake!" The tunneled voice called out again. It faded in and out, before Peter allowed himself to drift back off into the wonderland that was sleep.

"He woke up," The news sent the Avenger's into a state of relieved anxiety. The tenseness that was their situation had slipped away in three words. If Peter was awake, that was a good sign. Bruce was the first to whip out his phone and call Tony. Steve had woken May to alert her—the woman hadn't moved so fast in a decade when she ripped the blanket from her body and rushed down the hall way.

"Ned?!" She called as she skidded around the corner. In any other situation it would have been comical, but as it was...it was still entertaining. "Ned!" She slammed the door open, causing the young man to jump in rapt attention. "He woke up?"

The boy simply nodded, his lips pursing as tears sprung to his eyes. "Yeah, just for a few seconds. But the nurse said it would probably be short bursts until he's healed a bit more. But he was awake." Ned hummed happily as May's arms wrapped him into the tightest hug he had ever had—and that was saying a lot. Something about the plus sized boy was very huggable. Even Nat had to agree.

May turned her attention to the small form of her nephew on the bed. She reached out, and caressed the pale hand softly. It was certainly warmer than it had been during her last visit, a good sign of circulation she noted. She could feel the pulse in his wrist now; thumping against her hand in a soft rthym that she had never been so grateful to feel.

"C'mon Pete," She whispered softly, allowing her free hand to brush across the brunette's forehead, pushing his bangs away. It was warmer there too, but she had to remind herself to be careful. Stitches littered a chunk of his head, and she certainly didn't want to be the one to disturb them. "Get better soon," She placed a chaste kiss on his cheek as she stared down at the boy lovingly.

Tony nearly dropped the coffee when F.R.I.D.A.Y alerted him to the news. Lucky for him, the barista was paying attention and noted the look of excited shock on his face—even offered to carry it out to the car for him. Granted, Tony thought it was probably just to get a glance at the bright red convertible he was currently driving. But still, his hands were shaking so much he was still rather grateful for it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Part 3: Alert**

Waking up was hard, Peter thought when he tried to open his eyes for the first time. The outside world was foggy, and unclear. All he could make out was the white light that was more than happy to blind his retinas. A muffled groaned made its way up his throat, around something that was very much starting to choke him. In automatic response, his hand reaches up to pull the obstruction out.

"Don't do that," A deep, exhausted, voice muttered grasping his wrist. A flair of pain jolts through it, but his senses don't go off. Blearily, brown eyes glance towards the familiar face. His mind tried to place the face with a name, but he was coming up blank. Instead, he let out a wheezing whine, allowing his eyes to wander back up to the bright light. If anything, he knew what it was.

Patiently, both parties waited for the younger's vision to clear, but when Peter's eyes began to flutter closed again, the elder sighed.

It was brief, but it was all Tony needed. He just needed to see an awareness inside the brunette eyes; needed to know that he would officially wake up and be as similar to the Peter that he knew. There was a recognition, but no proper recall of the face Peter was seeing. Friday had scanned the boy as quickly as he had awoken.

"How is he now Fri?" Tony was leaned over the small body on the bed. A noted gurgle escaped from the boys chest as inhaled.

"He's choking on the intubation tube...sir." Friday hummed from Tony's headset.

Had anyone been there, they would have denied the quick drainage of blood from Tony's face. They wouldn't tell anyone that the man had slightly paniced and slammed his finger time and again against the red call button. And they would have been paid nicely for their silence.

The second time Peter woke up, the light was far brighter than he remembered, but the scratchy and blocked feeling in his throat was gone. There was no mild panic, and no softness of the pain reliever that he was sure filled his system. Lucky for him, however, there was a warm hand that grounded him in reality instead of letting him float back into the abyss.

"I'm glad to see you're awake," A voice hummed from beside the young boy. It was a nurse with short brunette hair, and soft green eyes. Something about the softness in her face reminded him heavily of Aunt May. Peter groaned, his arm shooting out to level himself as he tried to sit up. "Don't." The Nurse was quick to push him back to the bed with a soft but firm hand. "You shouldn't move. You could aggrivate your injuries."

"May," Peter's voice was a soft wheeze that seemed to break through the silence of the hospital room. "Where's..."

"She's resting in another room. Do you want to see her?" The nurse pursed her lips softly. "I can get her for you." Peter simply nodded, his head falling forward and barely making it back into the upright position.

"Alright sweety," The nurse—Peter really needed to get her name—hummed as she bounced on the balls of her feet. "I'll go get her. She'll be really excited." With that, the young lady turned and rushed out of the room.

Peter allowed his head to fall back into the pillows as an ache began to form just below his chest. It started off as a soft bearable pain, but the longer the nurse was gone the more attention Peter found himself paying to it, and less attention to the hand that still kept his prisoner. His mind wondered in circles that even Peter couldn't keep up with.

When the nurse returned, May was beside her, her fingers wringing anxiously in front.

"Peter!" She chirped rushing over to her nephew quickly. It had never been so good for her to see the chocolate brown eyes so wide. "Oh my baby!" She whispered rubbing his hair away from his forehead. And though Peter might not have seen them, he could hear the tears in her voice; it was enough to elicit his own set of tears.

"May," He croaked lightly. His voice was still raw, and the light pain in his lower back peaked just a bit; a wheeze escaped from him before he could properly control it. "Hurts," He whispered allowing his eyes to slip closed as another spike ran up his spine. This time, his heart monitor picked up on it; the machine sped up with its incessant beeping.

"Oh baby," May whimpered as she continued her soothing minstrations. "Can he have some pain medication?" She turned to look at the nurse who was already getting a syringe ready.

"It'll put him back to sleep... But at least we know he'll wake up." The nurse smiled warmly as she inserted the blunt tip into the soft port of his I.V.

Peter watched May softly the enter time. Or, at least, until her face began to swirl and sway, and mix in with a grogginess that overtook his mind as the pain in his back numbed. But he would wake up again. He would be able to see his aunt without the pain that throbbed.

"Go to sleep Peter," May placed a soft kiss on his forehead. "We'll be here when you wake up." Her thumb traced his cheek just under his eye. It was soft and soothing, and quickly helped him to sleep.

The third, and final, time Peter woke up, it was to the aroma of deliciously fried chicken and some kind of spice that he couldn't describe. His stomach had alerted the group to his consciousness before he even had the chance to open his eyes.

"Hey underroos," Tony's voice broke through the darkness as Peter forced his eyes apart. This time, there was no sharp pains; only the dull ache of being in the same position for a long period of time. "You hungry?"

"Always," Peter wheezed as he tried to force himself into a sitting position. Tony simply placed his hand on the kid's shoulder, and eased him up with the bed instead. "What did you bring? It smells amazing."

"Nothing that the doctor will let you eat, so you'll just have to hurry." Tony hummed as he drug the small tray table to rest over Peter's abdomen. "How you feeling? Any pain? Do you need me to get the nurse?" Peter simply shook his head reaching quickly for the food. It brought a smile to the older man's face. "Well, alright. Hurry before your Aunt May gets back. Or she'll kill me, and then that'll be the last of non-hospital food you get for a long time."

Right. Peter flinched a bit glacning around the room. He was in the hospital because of the attack. Doc Ock had come out of nowhere; had figured out who Spider-Man was beneath the mask. Hell, the man had made to attack Ned and the entirety of Midtown High while being filmed by the loacl media.

"How bad was it?" Peter found himself questioning before he could think his questions through. There was a lot he wanted to know, but he had to know how bad his injuries were first.

"Kid," Tony pursed his lips as worry lines creased his brow. "I don't..." He sighed and brushed his hand over his face as he leaned forward. "You almost died. Hell, I was pretty sure we were going to lose you." His voice peaked and cracked at the end. "But you didn't." He shuddered, reminding himself; grounding himself to this reality. "And I'm so glad...but you can't...You won't be able to..."

"Relax, Mr. Stark," A new voice cut in as a doctor wearing a white coat stepped into the room. "Perhaps I should take over from here, before you give yourself an anuerism." A confident smirk lined the man's lips as he checked his patient's vitals. "Hello Peter. How nice to finally see you awake. I'm Doctor Rutherford. How are you feeling?" He purposely ignored the chicken platter that the boy was halfway to shoving in his mouth—instead sending a light glare at the billionaire. But it was hard to reprimand the man after seeing the way he cared.

"Hungry," Peter admitted, placing the chicken back on the plate and pushing it away as if he were innocent.

"That's good," Rutherford hummed lightly as he tapped at the glass vial attached to his bag of saline. "Now, I understand you're...different." He nodded lightly as he stepped back making a note on the pad in his pocket. "So I want to run a few tests while you're awake. Specifically an MRI on your spine. When you first arrived, you weren't responding to any touch below your hips. But, if your other injuries are anything to go by, I think you'll be relatively fine. Everything else has healed rather quickly, and precisely with a little help."

"You never mentioned a spinal injury," Tony frowned glancing at the doctor from his position in the chair. "That's kind of important Doc."

"Relax, Mr. Stark. There were other things to worry about at the time. If there is a spinal injury, the MRI will show us how bad it is, and whether the effects will be long lasting or not." Rutherford hummed confidently. "It wasn't exactly a life threatening injury."

"What about Ned?" Peter blurted feeling a bit overwhelmed with his own possible injuries. He had recalled Ned being next to him when the car had slammed into him and pinned him to the building. "How is he? Was anyone else hurt?" Shit, Flash was there, and Michelle. There were so many kids who had probably found out who he was. And it was because of that little fact that they had possibly gotten hurt.

"Relax kid," Tony smiled cupping Peter's hand softly. "Ned only had a bit of shock, and everyone else got out with scratches basically. Lucky, or unluckily for you, Otto was pretty focused on Peter Parker. He thinks you know Spider-Man."

"Natasha interrogated him," A third voice broke in. Peter's face jerked up to meet the bright blue eyes of Captain. Freaking. America. Except he was dressed in his typical red white and blue garb.

"Holy crap," Peter squeaked staring at Steve Rogers. Had he met the man before? Yes. Did he still get stupid butterflies in his stomach everytime he laid eyes on the man? Hell yes. But the same could be said for Mr. Stark as well. What was life, when his heroes were both in the same room as him just to make sure he's okay.

"Hey," Tony pouted as if insulted. "Really? Steve, get out." Steve chuckled softly shaking his head as he collapsed into the second chair in the room. Dr. Rutherford sighed heavily, as he continued his examination.

"Alright, Mr. Parker. I just need you to tell me if you feel this okay?" The doctor made a small hand gesture just under the blanket. But Peter hadn't said anything. Instead he simply stared at the doctor as if waiting for him to do something. Rutherford simply pulled his hand from the blanket, nodding quietly to himself, and jotted something down in the pad. "I'll go schedule that MRI for you. Try not to get him over excited gentleman. And please finish that food before your Aunt sees it. Mr. Stark is currently on thin ice with her."

Peter nodded quickly, slightly confused by everything that was happening. Yet, he revelled in the feeling of just being awake.

"How is everyone? How's school?" Peter mumbled as he grasped a piece of chicken and shoved it into his mouth.

"Your school is being rebuilt, a few of the halls are closed off, but everyone made it out okay." Steve smiled softly as Peter licked crumbs and grease fom his thumb.

"Ned and Michelle said they would come see you after school." Tony buzzed placing another chicken tender on the kid's plate. He himself had never been privvy to the grease, but obviously the teen was loving it. "And so's that Flash kid I think. He was pretty surprised."

"Flash?!" Peter squeaked staring at the other brunette in horror. How had Flash found out? He was never supposed to know that Peter could kick his ass. It was a trump card that the kid had plans for.

"Yeah," Tony nodded shrugging his shoulders. "He was with Ned and the others when we were pulling you out from the car. He had to be told when suddenly all of the avengers were there for some tween."

Peter groaned heavily, allowing hiself to sink back into the pillows. It was a lot to take in; between waking up, the prospect of something wrong with his back, and now Flash knows that he's a spider themed vigilante? It was all turning out to be too much.

"It's okay," Tony frowned, his hand reaching out to grasp the small hand of his 'intern'. "He signed an NDA, and if he even thinks of uttering a word of who you are...well I've got my lawyer's monitoring all of his social media pages." Peter let out a sigh of relief. Of course Mr. Stark would have everything under control. The man was always one step ahead of the game.

By noon, Peter was thoroughly exhausted. Aunt May hadn't left his side, and the nurses had been in several times to check on him and make sure he was okay. He had been assured several times that it was okay if he took a nap. Everyone would be there by the time he woke up. But he didn't want to sleep anymore. By his understanding, he had done plenty of that over the past week or so. No one had told him officially how long he had been out. Besides, he didn't want to miss a moment with his Aunt.

"May," He squeezed her hand softly, snapping her attention away from the soap opera that was playing on the tv. She glanced as his tear filled brown eyes and tugged him into a tight hug. "I'm sorry," He whispered into her shoulder. She simply shushed him and brushed his hair away from his face.

This time, the sleep he fell into was a light one. He wasn't induced by drugs, and his stomach was full. It was a normal sleep; one he hadn't realized how much he missed. It was full of dreams and light; not the shaded darkness that had silenced his mind.

"Peter!" Ned barked as he rushed into the room with Michelle and, unbelievably, Flash in tow. "How are you feeling man?" Ned flunked into the other guest chair.

"Starved, actually." Peter smiled tiredly. "The doctor keeps fussing Mr. Stark when he brings me food from the cafeteria."

"That's because that's not from the hospital cafeteria," Aunt May chastised amused.

"Poor Peter," Ned gaped as if it was the worst imaginable fate. Peter certainly couldn't blame him. He had tried to stomach the hospital food after all. But no matter how much ketchup and salt and pepper he drowed it in, the food still tasted like card board. It was pretty impressive actually.

"Glad you're okay, Parker." A timid voice whispered from the corner of the room. All eyes turned to Flash, who made sure to shrink in on himself. He was still in shock about the whole 'Peter Parker is Spider-Man' ordeal. And after watching the teenager take on one of his nemesis, he certainly didn't want to be the center of his malice.

"Thanks Flash," Peter smiled politely. His eyes flitted over to Ned and Michelle who simply shruged in response. "You can uh...sit down if you'd like?"

"Not in my chair!" Another voice added in—from the ceiling. Peter felt his face deadpan, before he glared up at the vent that now doubt held one certain avenger that was always good for comedic relief.

"Clint," Peter groaned softly, bringing his hand up to rub his face. "What are you doing in the vents?" All color drained from Flash's face as Hawkeye himself dropped down from the small vent. How in the world the man had managed to squirm his way inside was certainly beyond any imaginative capability that the teen held.

"Tony wanted me to keep check on you. Gave me specific instructions not to get in the way," Clint shrugged as if this was an every day occurrence. Which, unbeknownst to Flash and Michelle, it was. "What's more out of the way than the ceiling?"

"We're not in the tower though," Peter sighed shaking his head. "You can't make a nest in the vents. It's just creepy, and unhealthy."

"Holy crap," Flash squeaked from his spot. Michelle simply jammed her elbow into the boy's side.

"How about I go get you some uh...some food?" Clint muttered glancing at the three extra teenagers that littered the room. "From like..."

"From the cafeteria. And I'll join you," May smiled tightly as she jumped from her spot on the chair. "Someone has to make sure that you don't decide on another impromptu trip to Hooter's. I'm not having the nurse rip me a new one because you can't seem to follow orders." Clint paled a bit at the quiet threat that belayed such a sweet tone.

"Right. Cafeteria." Clint whispered being led out of the room.

Once the door shut, all eyes turned to the blonde boy who still cowered in the corner.

"I guess we should talk," Peter sighed softly brushing his hand over his face. Stress etched itself into every facet of his being. His shoulders tensed as he thought of the best way to explain the situation.

"You're Spider-Man." Flash whispered quietly. "You could have seriously kicked my ass, and you never did."

"Er..." Peter worried his bottom lip between his teeth. It wasn't that Flash was wrong. On the contrary, the boy was absolutely right. "Well...yes. But you can't tell anyone. I mean absolutely no one."

"I'll make sure he doesn't." Michelle sighed shooting a glare at her team member. "After all," She crossed her arms shooting a glare at the brunette on the hospital bed. "I'm the most responsible out of all of us." Peter flinched away glancing down at his blanket guiltily. Because, of course, Michelle was right. She knew when to keep her mouth shut, and how to keep other's mouths shut when it mattered most. As a part of the 'man in the chair' team, she was an important aspect. She kept them in line when the possibility of messing up was higher than their regular stakes.

"What!?" Flash squeaked as he glanced towards the dark curls that decorated the girls face.

"Just as I said Flash," Michelle crossed her arms shooting a glare at the male. "You know, and now you're stuck with us."

"Exactly!" Ned burst in a defiant smirk gracing his features. He had several ideas that he could put to good use for the boy that had given them hell in school. "We're his guys in the chair. We keep an eye on his surroundings when he's busy with the bad guys. Karen keeps us updated on his vitals, and we break in and call Mr. Stark if things get too out of hand."

"Like...like what happened at school?" Flash felt the color draining from his face as he thought of what all Spider-Man came face to face with on a daily basis.

"Exactly." Ned nodded turning his whole body to glance at the door as the doctor made his way in.

"Mr. Parker," Rutherford sighed softly. "I've got some good news, and some bad news."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Healing**

"Physical therapy," Peter muttered to himself over and over as he tried to force the new reality into his brain. May's hand reached out and grasped his, pursing her lips as she watched the internal conflict of her nephew. She had been expecting it; especially after seeing the footage on the news. Peter, however, had never gotten the chance to properly grasp just how lucky he was.

After the MRI, the doctor had confirmed his suspicions of a spinal chord injury, Dr. Rutherford had called in some specialists. Surgery was off the table, since the medication to put him under wouldn't stay in his system long enough. Physical therapy was a choice, but without the surgery Rutherford wasn't sure how far it would carry the boy in his healing process. So it left the doctor with a conundrum; a puzzle that he couldn't quite piece together. They could go in laproscopically—it would cause minimal pain and scarring, but the boy would still wake up to soon. And patients that wake up from anesthesia in the midst of surgery tend to panic. Definitely not good when doing anything to do with medical surgery, but very not good when dealing with the spin. He was left with no choice. He would have to call in some outside help.

"What can I do for you?" Tony hummed as he sat in the conference room. His arms crossed over his chest, as he shivered from the chilled air that circulated throughout the hospital. When he had initially been called in, Tony had worried it was because the doctor had found something else that would cause complication with Peter's healing; that perhaps he had found another injury, or decided it would be too complicated to try and fix.

"We'd like to do a fusion of his L2 and his L3. But we're concerned about how fast his body will metabolize the anesthesia. I don't want him to wake up in the middle of the surgery. We could do it laproscopically to make it as non-invasive as possible, but it would still be a painful surgery. It's my understanding that you work with a doctor who deals with supers on a regular basis." Rutherford paused, giving Tony time to nod in agreement. It wasn't a lie; he had Dr. Cho almost at his beck and call. She was there everytime they desperately needed her. She had also been the one to coin an anesthesia that could knock even Captain America out.

"I do. And yes," Tony hummed leaning back in his chair a bit more. "She has something that will work on Peter. But she'll demand to be in the operating room."

"I would have to run that by the board, since she's an out of hospital doctor." Rutherford replied, relief sagging his shoulders. "But I doubt they would say no."

"I can make it happen. You talk to them, I'll go call my friend." Tony stood from the chair, holding his hand out to shake the doctor's. "But first, I'm going to go check on my kid."

"Alright children," Tony boasted as he stepped into the semi-crowded room. Peter looked ready to pass out, all color gone from his face as his eyes started to droop. Flash, the damn kid, didn't look much better. He looked like he was still in shock that Pete was Spidey. Which, Tony, in a sense, could understand. It is a lot to take in that the kid you've been bullying could kick your ass by just looking at you. "It's my turn." Tony allowed himself to flop into the empty chair on the other side of the bed.

"It's...M-Mr..." Flash's voice squeaked. Michelle scoffed before Tony even had the chance to respond. She was a sassy girl; one Pepper quite enjoyed when she had visited the tower a time or two.

"Sorry, Stark." Michelle sighed brushing her curled bangs away from her face. "We're stuck here until Ned's mom comes to pick us up." She leaned against the wall crossing her arms defiantly. But Tony had a solution. Tony Stark **always** had a solution.

"Give Happy ten minutes with the kid, and he'll take you for food and then home." Tony smirked crossing his arms. He hated sharing his time with Peter; it was selfish. But he would be damned if he didn't want to talk to the kid about emotional stuff that would leave him feeling sick and drained. On top of that, Peter probably wouldn't be awake much longer by the looks of it. The kid was practically snoring already.

"Fancy sushi resturaunt?" Michelle quipped arching her brow. If she was going to be forced out of her time with one of her best friends, she was going to get something really good out of it.

"Whatever food you want. Happy will be at your disposal." Tony hummed smirking.

Michelle nodded, nudging Ned softly. He simply nodded in return, reaching out to grip Peter's hand softly before following the brunette out. Tony sighed softly, leaning back in the chair watching Peter. The kid had remained silent, a true statement that he wasn't really up for visitors, but he didn't seem to be in any pain at least.

"They're talking about surgery,ya know?" Tony whispered. The low tone seemed to sooth and relax the kid. His friends, Tony surmised, probably didn't know that he was more sensitive to stimuli than they were. And with Flash being around, it was probably a good thing that they didn't. The kid hadn't been mean to Pete in a few days, but that doesn't mean he wouldn't snap out of his shock at some point and use it against him. Or what if, heaven forbid, one of the assholes that Peter fought on a pretty regular basis kidnapped one of them and they spilled? Then again, it would be the same on them knowing his secret identity.

"Mm," Peter hummed in response. His eyes slipped closed as he sunk further into the pillows. Tony simply chuckled and reached across to grab the remote that lowered the back of the bed. Peter sighed curling into himself as he got comfortable.

"Gee thanks kid. What I have to say is important too." It was a joke. Light and relieved, and Tony had never been happier that he could still joke with the kid.

May paced up and down the hall, her fingers wringing the sweater hem. By the end of the eight hour wait, she would have to fix it so that the whole thing wouldn't continue to fray under her minstrations. But, still, she couldn't bring herself to relax. Not until Peter was finally out of the surgery that she had signed off on. Tony had convinced her when she made it back to the room that it was important; told her not to worry because he would have one of his own doctors on the inside making sure everything would go okay.

May still worried though. Peter was all she had left, and no matter how much his vitals had improved, he was not impervious to the Parker luck as they had dubbed it many years ago.

"Relax," Natasha placed a comforting hand on the older woman's shoulder. She, in a sense, understood what May was going through. Hell, she certainly wouldn't deny the knot of anxiety that bottled itself up in her lower abdomen. But she was sure that Cho wouldn't let anything happen to their little arachnid; she was too skilled to allow it. But May didn't know that. Cho didn't want to be associated with Stark or the Avengers; had opted to continue as a normal doctor, only stepping in when absolutely necessary. So Tony had allowed her to keep her secrecy, and in doing so, was not allowed to tell May who he had on the inside. "He'll be fine."

"I know," May whined softly, bringing the hem of her sleeve to her mouth. "I know...I just...He's my baby." Natasha nodded simply, urging the woman to one of the many uncomfortable chairs that lined the waiting room. "And we haven't had an update yet. What if...What if they can't fix it? What if my baby is just forced into a wheel chair for the rest of his life? I don't have the money to make my house handicap available." Tears sprung to the brown eyes that glanced up at the names that line the tv; informing the families where their loved ones were resting in time and what their vitals were.

"Then we'll help," A deeper voice broke through. Steve settled himself beside the mothering nurse and placed a soothing hand on her shoulder. "You're not in this alone. He's one of us too. We'll figure it out together." May found herself smiling just a bit at the idea; but Peter was hers—much more hers than he would ever be their's.

"Quit thinking like that. It's depressing." Tony grunted stepping up to the scene with two holding trays of coffee balanced precariously on his right arm. "I brought some much needed coffee. The good kind. Actual coffee. No offense May, but the shit they call coffee here is going to be the cause of a zombie apocalypse."

May scoffed out a soft chuckle. Tony, for all of his uncaring ways, was the most thoughtful man she had ever encountered—especially towards Peter. The initial intensity of it all had thrown her off, but after seeing how he had genuinely cared for the boy—in ways of constant upgrades to the suit so that Karen, the AI, could not be controlled solely by Peter. Meaning Tony, or May, could take control of the AI, and get all of the readings that they found necessary. Something that the genius, apparently, did on a nightly basis to make sure Peter was being safe.

"I'm not going to fight you on that one," She smiled gratefully as she took one of the offered cups. It was warm in her hand; soothing, and oddly grounding.

"That would be terrifying," Clint grunted from across the room. He was perched on a small table, with a bottle of gatorade sitting between his legs. May hadn't ignored the nervous twitching of his hands. But no one mentioned it, so she didn't bring it up. "Hyped up zombies? Imagine..." He shuddered heavily before letting his legs fly out from under him.

"They just took his name off the board," Steve's voice brought all of the attention back to the small display tv. "That's good news right?" He glanced back towards the group. Even in his years of being sentient again, Captain america still had a ahrd time understanding and registering the power of technology.

"Should be," Tony sighed softly around his first heavenly sip of decent coffee. It was roasted hazelnut, and god damnit, heaven in Tony's mouth. "We should be hearing how it went any second now."

As if on cue, Dr. Rutherford walked out of the double doors wearing his green surge scrubs. He looked up to meet the eyes of the avengers and smiled. No more needed to be said. Everything had gone perfectly.

"It went just like I planned. Everything is going well. In about a week, I'd like to see him in some physical therapy. It'll still be a while, but hopefully the fusion will give him back some use in his legs. Until then," He grimaced at May, very much aware of her situation. "He will probably be wheel chair bound. I don't expect him to get back fully into his erm...his other activities soon though. It'll probably be a good year or so before he can perform anything arachnid related."

"A year..." May's voice cracked with relief. It was a full year for Peter to focus on himself; for him to be a real teenager. A full year where she can go to sleep peacefully, without worry of waking up and finding out Spider-Man has been severely injured, or worst yet—dead. "I...alright...I'll just have to figure something out."

"Nonsense," Tony waved his hand as he draped an arm around her shoulders. "You let me know a date you're free, and I'll have a contractor come out to help. Besides," He hummed as he leaned in thoughtfully. "If you don't want that, you guys could always live at the compound while he's recovering. I'm sure the others won't mind having the kid there."

"No," May shook her head softly. "We couldn't impose like that. But I will take you up on the contractor. If anything, it'll help when I get old as well. I'm not the youngest sprite out there." May smiled softly before glancing back at Dr. Rutherford. "When can we see him again?"

"He's currently being moved to recovery. When he starts coming too, you'll be able to go in and see him. When he can be considered somewhat conscious, we'll move him back to his room." Dr Rutherford smiled warmly at the group. The relief that swam over the group was almost intoxicating.

"Thank you," May simpered as tears swam in the corners of her eyes. "Thank you so so much Doctor." Quietly, she swiped at her eyes, brushing away the tears so that no one else would be privvy to them.

Pain radiated from the lower region of Peter's back. It buzzed and swirled in a bright red pool before flitting upwards towards his chest. Heaving a groan, he forced his dry eyes open and whined at the brightness that blinded him. The light itself sent jolts of pain to his brain; making it throb with the beginnings of a migraine.

"Lights," He whispered, a sense of deja vu falling over him. He was sure that he had said the same thing some time before, but his mind couldn't drudge the memory up. All he could think of was a soft grip that had held his hand, and the whispers of a deep sleep.

"I've got them underoos." Tony's voice buzzed. But it didn't just sound softly. It bounced around inside of Peter's head; ricochetting off the occipital structure of his skull and stabbing into his brain in four different ways. The teenager couldn't keep the groan of pain out of his throat. "You hurting kid?"

Peter managed a minute nod.

"I'll get the doc," Tony whispered this time. It helped with the overwhelming sense of hearing. Someone else beside him nodded, as if they knew that Tony's voice was what was causing the pain.

"Where does it hurt sweety?" May.

May's voice was soft and sweet. It soothed the edges that Tony's voice had carved, and seemed to ease the aches.

"M...back...head," Peter gurgled out. His throat felt stuck, and his tongue was as dry as the desert. "Water," He whimpered, allowing his eyes to wonder around the room. Unfortunately, the movement makes him dizzy.

"No water just yet," May moved to somewhere further in the room. "But you can have some ice." Peter flinched lightly at the crunchy scraping sound. "Sorry sweety," May whispered as she took her spot in the chair. Peter simply shook his head, sighing heavily. The cold cup was placed against his lips, which unfortunately, caused Peter to jump and a pain to jolt through his back. "It's okay baby," May hummed softly waiting patiently for the kid to open his mouth before pouring in a few chunks of ice.

"The nurse is coming," Tony whispered as he stepped through the door. This time, no pain came with the voice, but Peter still found himself unable to keep up, and before he knew it, his eyes were drooping.

At least, he found himself thinking, I will be well rested after all of this.

The first PT session was miserable. Peter absolutely hated the way he wasn't expected to really get out of the wheelchair. It had only been three weeks, and he could feel his energy bubbling beneath the skin; coiling into a spring that launched itself into his chest. He wanted nothing more than to get up out of the damned contraption and run around the room. As it stood, he couldn't exactly do that just yet. He had minimal feeling in his legs, and found it hard to get them to move the way he wanted—a feat, the doctor had managed to mutter.

But the teen couldn't find himself satisfied with the knowledge that he was already ahead of his healing time frame. He wanted to be back out in the saddle—swinging from building to building, colliding with the bag guys and protecting the city that he desperately loved. It was who he was; his center core. And being stuck in the wheelchair, no matter for how short a time period, made his depressed.

"May," He groaned as he pushed himself up the ramp of the porch. Mr. Stark had been kind enough to demand that the contractor include an automatic belt that Peter could strap around his wheels and pull himself up. "I'm bored."

"Hi Bored," May giggled as she chopped at an onion just through the window that led to the kitchen. "I'm May. Nice to meet you."

"Did...You just dad joked me...and you're not even a man!" Peter exclaimed throwing his arms up. With no one to banter with, he had come to enjoy these moments when May would joke and roll her eyes. He loved seeing her smile. He hadn't realized how much he had missed it until she had started smiling so much again. He knew why, but he wasn't ready to accept it just yet.

"Father's come in all shapes and forms Peter." May smiled leaning closer to the window. "Are you going to Tony's this weekend?"

"I think so," Peter shrugged softly leaning back in his chair. He still hadn't been allowed back to school yet—they had to get it approved to be accessible by the ever protective figure in Peter and May's life. "He had mentioned it, but he's been busy with Happy and some of the accords stuff. And I think Natasha and Clint are in town for a little bit right now too."

"Then he'll be here by six," May sighed softly brushing away a strand of hair that swayed in front of her glasses. "No doubt about it. That man is crazy about you," She hummed glancing up at her nephew, watching as he wheeled himself back and forth as if he was comforting himself with the motion. She knew he hated staying still; always had. Even as a child, she recalled, Peter loved to get up and move around. He had never been able to stay still for long. The doctors had called it ADHD. May had called it kinetic.

"You can't be so sure..." He glanced up at her, a grin breaking across his face because, he knew, that it was something to be sure about. Since the whole Doc Ock incident, Tony had basically forced himself even further into Peter's life, and he certainly wasn't going to complain.

"Please kid," A deep voice interrupted. They hadn't even heard the audi pull up. "I'm like clockwork. Hey May Flower," Tony grinned deviously at May through the window. Peter groaned heavily leaning his head back against his mentor.

"Joining us for dinner?" May challenged softly. It was well before six, and Tony knew that. But when it was his weekend to have the kid...well...He was always over excited, and no one could take it away.

"Nah," Tony shook his head smiling. "Pepper is cooking back at the compound. She'll kill me if I don't eat her food. And though you are both equally scary, I can at least avoid you for the most part."

A breathy laugh worked its way out of May's throat and Peter shook his head chuckling. His eyes crinkled with the smile as he glanced up at the ceiling of the porch. The fan spun, sending a comfortable breeze down to his face, and Peter was happy.

 **End.**

 **A/N: ^^ That was a lot of fun to write! It was a nice break from the drama and angst of my other story! I hope you guys enjoyed it!**


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